


maybe i just wanna be yours

by kittan



Series: things turned out a little differently (PWZ3) [3]
Category: Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann
Genre: ... i don't know what tags to add., Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, it's 3k of them being gay and horny., thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22786231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittan/pseuds/kittan
Summary: “You’re an asshole.”“You love it.”He does, so he gives up on the conversation to make his life more difficult instead....this is shameless kittamina pwp. i'm not really sorry. enjoy
Relationships: Kittan Bachika/Kamina
Series: things turned out a little differently (PWZ3) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637653
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	maybe i just wanna be yours

**Author's Note:**

> 1:  
> sorry not really
> 
> 2: takes place at an unimportant / unplanned point of time. could even be seen as a sequel a few days later to their vday date.
> 
> 3: i am possessed by these two and that's why i've written so much lately

“Can it, asshole,” He gasps with a slightly frustrated lilt, stumbling backwards a bit into the pathetic wreck of a mattress that didn’t even get the dignity of a frame left in his room. Kittan gives him a lazy smirk that informs him that he’ll probably never have a peaceful night until he’s too hazy to think, so he leans into it with a scowl, roughly yanking him down to follow with little time to protest. “I hate you so much.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kittan retorts somewhat absentmindedly, already running a hand down his waistband, fiddling with some irritation at his belt knot. “That’s why you practically threw your boxers at me when I bit your neck, I guess.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You love it.”

He does, so he gives up on the conversation to make his life more difficult instead, grabbing the sides of his half rolled up tanktop to yank him down closer into a messy, needy kiss that forced him to either give up on the belt for a minute to prove a point or keep trying to finish undressing him through Kamina’s needy kisses, a task that very rapidly proves to be far too annoying as Kittan concedes defeat to slide one arm around his waist and the other back behind his head, tilting his neck slightly to deepen the kiss at a slightly easier angle. He manages some sort of an undignified gasp when they part, vaguely aware of how desperate and needy he appeared, and took a brief second to catch his breath and scowl at the insufferable smirk painted on his face.

“You know, if you spoil me too much, I might get the idea you like me being stubborn and competitive all the time.”

“Don’t let it get to your head, you’re just a little more tolerable after you’ve won a bet.”

“Yeah? That why you let me shove you on your knees when I beat your record in destroying Gunmen? Think that set the baseline for your ‘Kittan, pleaaaase fuck me senseless’ levels.”

“And I’m sure that’s why you’ve been leaving hickies on my throat ‘cause I beat the shit out of you over being right about the leads on the most recent theft case,” Kamina snaps it back, feeling a slight giddy sense of satisfaction when Kittan scowls and roughly yanks him forwards for a second, well aware that two could play at the same game. “Gonna force your hand down my pants next time I beat you in a fistfight on work grounds?”

“Oh, you wish.” He doesn’t bother responding to the taunt when Kittan barely gives him time to, sinking his teeth into his throat in something that’s more of a bite than a kiss. His pride isn’t high enough to bother muffling the soft groan that escapes him at the action, shifting ungracefully to make it a bit easier for the both of them. 

“You’re the one who stares at me when you end up callin’ me in to escalate a fight against whoever the fuck you detained that you don’t feel like playing bad cop with nowadays,” Kamina points out between unsteady breaths. “Did you drool that much when I beat the shit out of Viral, too? How about when I staggered out of Gurren into a straight fistfight with one of the Beastmen trying to sneak up on us?”

“ _ Fuck _ you, Kamina--”

“I mean, that’s sort of the point, innit?”

“God, I don’t know what the hell made me kiss you first,” Kittan gasps, shoving him down by the chest with most of his weight; Kamina can’t bite back a snarky, smug snicker as he loses a significant portion of his patience with the absurdity of his general pants’ powers of staying up. His breathy laugh changes into a scowl when the audible snap of a pocket knife hits his ears. 

“Dude, seriously, you can’t just cut my belt off.”

“You tie that thing tighter than you let me tie your fucking wrists up! You could tow a Gunman with this shit!”

“It’s so it stays aesthetic, you asshole! Just let me do it!”

“Hell no!”

It turns into an immediate wrestle, Kamina lunging for Kittan’s arms while he attempted to jerk backwards to escape his wrath, dropping the knife with a clatter onto the floor in the process; he managed to flip their position for a brief moment, glancing down at the blonde’s face with a smug grin as he ran his hands up his shirt before he was unceremoniously flipped back onto his back, wrists ungracefully pinned by one of Kittan’s hands. 

“Prick.”

“It’s almost like slow dancing. But for us two, who courted each other through insisting each of us were better pilots and getting into fistfights.”

“If I ever made out with you after slow dancing, I think you’d get off right then and there, Kamina.”

“Would not.”

“You’ll eat those words in the future.” 

He’s pretty sure he won’t mind eating those words, considering the thought makes him a little dizzy, and decides to busy himself finishing a job he’d started and abandoned three times already, ungracefully dragging Kittan’s shirt off and tossing it to the abyss known as his floor across the room. They’ll both be lucky if it’s findable in the morning, though he has a feeling Kittan might just steal one of the shirts he never wears anyways and wear it to accentuate the obvious, uncoverable hickies and bitemarks scouring Kamina’s neck and shoulders. Just to make  _ sure _ everyone they knew was aware they were dating.

Kittan made some sort of triumphant laugh when he finished untangling the knot in his belt, yanking it off hurriedly to discard onto the floor and easing both hands down the waistband of his pants, taking his sweet time in the process as Kamina scowled at the purposeful slowness, already propping himself up on his elbows to make rather short work of Kittan’s own belt, carelessly dragging him closer while shoving his pants off somewhere to the side of the bed pointedly.

“Needy.”

“That’s pretty rich, coming from you,” he retorted, running a hand down the side of Kittan’s thighs and giving him a lazy, languid smirk at the immediate hiss that followed. “Can’t keep callin’ me needy when I’m pretty sure you’re more desperate here.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re the one practically whimpering for me to push you into the mattress.” 

“Yet here we are, with me relatively unpushed and you whining for me to stroke you off. Too needy to finish taking my pants, off, ooorr…”

He’s rewarded for his mouthing off with the very rough yank following the discarding of his pants and Kittan rather roughly shoving the palm of his hand against his crotch, forcing him to abandon whatever remark he had queued up next to make a rather undignified whine.

“Better.”

“Fuck, I hate you. Do you have to make this agonizing?”

“You like it this way! You know damn well if we didn’t keep arguing until I’m literally fucking you senseless it wouldn’t be the same,  _ plus _ you always keep mouthing off even when you’re barely even capable of saying my fucking name!”

“Touche,” It’s cut off sharply by Kittan rolling his eyes while rubbing through the obvious offset in his boxers, taking his sweet time to run his palm against him before switching to slipping his hand down his boxer waistband, and he gasps slightly when his hips somewhat reflexively buck into his hands. “You’re the worst man alive.”

“Want me to go back to kissing your throat?”

“You-- no, you asshole, you could at least commit to what you’re doing presentl--”

His indignant protests are immediately cancelled by Kittan switching gears from running a hand against his already aching cock to easily leaning back over him entirely, pressing his mouth to Kamina’s in a rather rough, hungry kiss and sliding an arm back around his waist, leaning his other arm against the wall in lieu of a headboard. As somewhat desperate as he is for this show to get on the road, he can’t help but let out a panting moan into the kiss, freely wrapping his arms around Kittan to at least enjoy the heat of his body pressed against him; the still lucid part of his brain that said  _ make your boyfriend’s life difficult  _ rather than  _ god I want him to kiss me for hours _ and  _ if I do not have him inside of me soon, I will kill him  _ practically  _ begged  _ at his consciousness to at least gain a little control over the makeout, leave some hickies for him to hide back.

That part of his brain wins out after a minute, when the two briefly part to catch their breath and a very in-too-deep part of Kamina’s brain shudders slightly at the sight of Kittan vaguely dazed and definitely messy, saliva vaguely visible against his mouth from their kisses being always messy and imperfect, and he manages to flip their scenario to press his mouth against Kittan’s throat before he can protest. 

“You fuucker,” He manages with a sharp gasp, weakly trying to keep up some sort of facade that didn’t immediately betray the glee and enjoyment as Kamina pressed sharp, slow kisses and bites against his throat, moving down to his shoulders slowly. “Can’t cover this shit up, Kamiiiina.”

“Now we both can show off.” Kamina mutters, glancing up to somewhat brattily bat his eyes at Kittan, and was rewarded with being flipped roughly.

“Oh, good,” He mutters back, tracing against some of the scars on Kamina’s shoulders and stomach lazily with one hand and shooting him a sharp grin. “Maybe I’ll leave some on your hips and you can be the guy everyone hates for the day.”

Kamina doesn’t even bother dignifying it with a retort, in part because the idea of Kittan’s mouth against his hips is making an already burning problem climb higher and in part because any response he could give at this point would just escalate the situation anyways. So when Kittan starts languidly kissing down his stomach towards his hips, he gives up on the pretense of rivalry and lets himself shudder and gasp at the touch. 

“Neeedy.”

“I’m- I’m gonna kick your ass,”

“Sure, sure. Later.”

“Later, yeah,  _ fuck  _ do you have to be so damn agonizingly slow?!”

“Relax, enjoy yourself, Kamina! I’m being  _ sweet _ .”

“Thanks, I hate it,” he’s interrupted with a gasp as Kittan rolls his eyes and unceremoniously yanks his boxers off of him before returning to slow, tantalizing kisses against his thighs. “ _ Fuuuuuck. _ ”

“Maybe if you were niiiiicer.” He lets it roll off his tongue teasingly, running a hand up and down Kamina’s dick tantalizingly slow as his hips immediately buck into the touch, a tirade of immediate swears preceding any other thoughts he might have.

“Oh, go to hell-- if you think I’m gonna  _ beg,  _ seven years clearly has not been enough time dating me,”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. You could at least ask me with my name and a fuck you, you know?”

“ _ Kittan, _ ” And it’s not so much of a gasp as it is something like a snarl, a halfhearted lunge accompanying his words as his boyfriend deems that somewhat of an acceptable compromise to his pride and removing his own underwear with a much more frantic pace. He’s at least kind enough to lean over and press a much more gentle, loving kiss to his mouth while he briefly swings off the bed to dig out whatever half-used bottle of lube they’d abandoned in the chasm of Kamina’s dresser last time they were at his apartment, and he’s vaguely grateful for the opportunity to catch his breath for a second. Kittan shifts back onto the bed with a triumphant, although distracted grin, already popping the cap open. 

The problem, Kamina decides, with being impatient and also doing anal, is that when Kittan takes his sweet fucking time easing a finger into him he’s pretty sure he’s either going to die or finish on the spot, and he’s not sure which one is more preferrable. But, since he’s well aware this is not even remotely close to their first time, he’s pretty sure he’s closer to the death end of the spectrum solely from impatience and desperation than he is finishing solely from neediness. 

“ _ Fuuuuuck _ , I wish- I wish this part didn’t take so  _ fuckingdamnlong _ \--”

“Oh, just enjoy it,” Kittan’s words are much more slurred, coming between short breaths themselves by now, and his hands are shaking slightly as he eases a second finger into him and Kamina swears violently, tipping his head back with a gasp. “Jeez, you like it, anyways.”

“Do-doesn’t make it go any faster, Kittan, sorry,”

“I get it, you want my dick in you, I’m going  _ as fast as I fucking can _ !”

He manages some sort of a weak, pouty laugh, voice cracking in the process as Kittan deems both his whining too annoying and everything generally satisfactory and barely remembers to recap the bottle before tossing it back into the sad state of his dresser. He doesn’t have time to really lament the fact he’s probably got many lost, half-empty bottles of lube hidden in his room from every time they keep forgetting where Kittan tosses it as his legs are roughly spread open, barely any warning before the tip of his cock is prodding at his entrance. 

He lets his head tip back into a strangled moan when Kittan pushes in, a bit rough and unsteady and needy overall as the general betrayers of his earlier composure being a very well-maintained facade. “ _ Haaah,  _ fuck,”

“Easy,” he mutters back, threading one hand through blue, messy hair and leaning into him with an unconcealed groan of his own. “You’re gonna literally injure yourself in desperation one time, Kamina.”

“You’ll take care of me,” he retorts weakly, eyes fluttering half shut as Kittan’s mouth ghosts his throat. “You always do.”

“ _ Fuck _ , don’t be cute about this, it makes my chest hurt!”

“M’nooooot.”

His mouthing off and sleazy, barely lucid grin is finally cut off with Kittan moving, replacing any normal coherent thought left in his brain with a long string of swears and a low gasp of  _ Kittan,  _ pace agonizingly slow until he’s  _ sure  _ there would be absolutely no embarrassing  _ my-boyfriend-got-too-desperate-and-got-hurt _ calls and that he was adjusted before forgoing any kind of pretense, picking up a much different, rougher, frantic pace as Kamina’s train of speech devolves into meaningless babble and moans, Kittan’s name barely even distinguishable between messy, undignified kisses and his fingernails digging into his back. Kittan wasn’t much better, barely more coherent with his shaky gasps and hisses of Kamina’s name through thrusts and roughly carding his fingers through blue, messy hair, vaguely splayed out against the pillows.

  
  


Eventually, Kittan finished with a sharp gasp, barely giving a thought about the jerky, unrefined movements that immediately followed as he buried his face in the nape of Kamina’s neck, curling his fingers into his hair as he finished a few more needy, desperate thrusts through it. Kamina didn’t last much longer, an unintelligible moan and a shaky “ _ Kittan,” _ consisting of all the fanfare that preceded the abrupt warm, sticky feeling against his torso that vaguely filtered through Kittan’s hazy brain, hands loosening slightly against his back afterwards. He let his eyes flutter half shut, pressing a few gentle, slower kisses against his neck, not making any effort to move; Kamina’s rapid, shaky breathing served as somewhat of a comforting noise in the ensuing silence, a background noise for the nice hazy period post-orgasm where he didn’t have to think about anything except his boyfriend. 

“Mmh,” Kittan feels his heart immediately melt at the notable lack of coherent english when Kamina mumbles something against his hair. “Y’don’t move soon, uhh... “

“It’s fine,” He muttered back, slipping his other arm out of Kamina’s hair and around his waist with a soft, content sigh. “Just- we’ll clean up later, or something…”

“Ss… fine, suit yourself, not my problem.” 

“Your bedsheets.”

“‘Ll buy new ones.”

“Mm. Sounds good,” He mumbles it as a few neurons fire back up in his brain and suggest he should at least have the courtesy of pulling out, something that he barely finds it in himself to finish through with; Kamina makes a keening, high-pitched whine at the sensation and he almost rolls his eyes. Almost. “You get cuter when you’re quieter.”

“Do not.” 

“Do too.” 

Kamina gives him a half-hearted scowl that he matches with a sleepy, dazed grin that has none of the normal bite to it, easily scooping him up into his arms to roll over into a still incredibly tangled position, but a mildly more comfortable for the both of them one, Kamina’s head coming to rest against his chest with a barely audible satisfied sigh. Kittan leans his chin against his boyfriend’s hair as his eyes flutter back shut, wrapping his arms a bit tighter around him. 

“I love you.” It’s barely audible, but he hopes considering the proximity that it’s picked up. He shifts very slightly into him, clearly bordering on falling asleep himself, and Kittan feels a gentle touch trace a few of the scars on his shoulder. 

“...love ya, too.” Kamina mumbles it very slowly, almost methodically against his chest, the mark of him actually tamping back the urge to turn it into another dick-measuring contest with sharper words to convey some sense of ‘rivalry’ to say something genuinely heartfelt, and he acknowledges it gently with a soft hum, drifting off to sleep before he can add any halfhearted jabs about how many sheets they’ve probably both ruined.

In the back of his head, before letting himself fall asleep to Kittan’s gradually even breathing, Kamina vaguely realized that whenever the hell they both woke up he’d have one hell of a good pickup line to come back with in the knowledge they both needed to shower. 


End file.
